


Help I'm Alive

by inaweoftheirvoices



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ((I'm sorry)), (more than once), Asexual Character, Asexual Niall, Coming Out, Fluff, Journalist Niall, M/M, Panic Attacks, louis and niall are bffs in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inaweoftheirvoices/pseuds/inaweoftheirvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, it shouldn’t be this hard to talk to the guy. Niall's got a master’s degree in journalism and communication, he wrote for the school newspaper for four years and he always got straight A’s in English. He knows how to work with words, better than anything else. And now, out of nowhere, all it takes is one dimpled smile from a cute secretary and the words disappear into thin air. It’s embarrassing, frankly.<br/>Niall needs to step up his game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I tremble

**Author's Note:**

> this is for sara, who I love very very very much and who said in her tags once " someone please make that AU PLEASE I NEED POLITICAL!NIALL OR JOURNALIST!NIALL or any AU of Niall ever really"  
> you ask, I deliver!  
> happy birthday :) <3<3

Niall’s hands are sweating. He’s wiped them on his pants about three hundred times now, but it doesn’t help. Suit pants aren’t designed to absorb sweat.

He’s wearing his best suit today, not that he has many to choose from; when he started working at the office, he went out and bought three suits, and he never bought another one. He hardly ever gets the chance to wear them anyway. Most of his day consists of running errands for his bosses or editorializing other people’s writing; not exactly what he imaged working for The Daily would be like, but it pays the bills. It doesn’t pay for much beyond that, as the worn down leather briefcase on his lap proves, but he hopes that’ll change soon. And, eventually, he hopes to have a shot at doing things like this more often, maybe even write his own articles instead of just taking notes for someone else.

The room he was told to wait in feels vaguely like the waiting room at a doctor’s office. The door he came in through is on his left, and there’s another door on his right that leads to the firm’s conference rooms; the only noise in the room is the ticking of Niall’s watch. It’s absolutely nerve-wracking. He wonders if they designed this room to make people nervous.

It’s all he can do to keep himself from flinching when the door to his right opens and a young woman in a grey pant suit enters the room. Her eyes find Niall and he can’t help noticing that everything looks on point in here, even the employee’s winged eyeliner.

“Mr. Horan?”

Niall springs to his feet in an instant. “Yes?”

“They’re ready for you now.”

She smiles knowingly as he straightens out his jacket and takes a deep breath, then leads him through the door and into a corridor. “It’s the third door on the left.”

“Right. Thank you!”

He expected her to leave him to his own devices, but she sticks by his side all the way to the door. “Do you need a minute to catch your breath?”

“Uhm–” he’s too floored by the sincerity of the question to think about his answer. “No, thank you. We can–we can go.”

Before he has time to feel stupid, the young woman nods and opens the door for him. Niall does his best to fix his posture before entering the room, his knuckles white where his fingers are holding onto the handle of his briefcase.

****

By the time the interview is over, Niall’s dress shirt is sticking to his back and he’s pretty sure there’s red blotches on his face, but he feels accomplished. Not only did he get to ask all the questions his boss wrote down without stuttering once, he also managed to convince them to send him the firm’s statistics from the past six months. (Well, he _asked_ about the progression of the company’s success and got a sigh and a “we’ll have someone send you the documents” in response, but he’ll take it!) All in all, Niall’s first interview went well, if he does say so himself.

Annie, the young woman who led Niall into the room and who turned out to be one of Wells’ secretaries, throws him a wink and waits as he gathers his stuff.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to type?” she asks, gesturing to the stacks of handwritten notes. “That seems like a lot of unnecessary work.”

Niall shrugs. “I don’t mind it.”

He’d probably think it’s weird if he was her, too, but he’s always liked it better this way. Something about writing the words himself makes them stay in his memory longer, and it makes it easier to editorialize when he types them out. Niall has always found that forcing himself to go through his notes more than once makes the story more clean cut later on. Annie isn’t wrong, it’s a lot more work, but it’s worth it, and Niall is used to the process by now.

Annie leads him back to the front desk, and the whole way there Niall can’t stop smiling. He feels so much lighter. Annie seems to notice; she gives him a subtle wink before turning to the person sitting behind the desk. “Hazza, I need you to take Mr. Horan’s contact information so we can let him know in case anything comes up.”

“Sure thing,” the guy behind the desk says and directs his billion-watt-smile at Niall. “Could you fill this out for me?”

Niall takes the form he’s holding out for him and scribbles down his cell number, his office number and full name before giving it back.

“Fast writer,” Hazza comments and Niall smirks.

“Kinda comes with the territory.”

His eyes widen in recognition, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ in the process. “Ah, so you’re the journalist.”

“Yes. I am ‘the’ journalist.”

Hazza actually has to clap his hand over his mouth to keep the laugh in. Honestly, this guy is absolutely ridiculous, but somehow it works for him. Might just be the dimples clouding Niall’s judgement, though. He leans forward onto his elbows and cocks an eyebrow once the secretary is done laughing.

“So. _Hazza_ , eh? Interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname, my name’s Harry. She just calls me that to annoy me.”

“Lovely name.”

Harry’s smile is back in no time, but this time it’s more lopsided. Cheeky. “Likewise.”

Now it’s Niall’s turn to laugh, and he’s glad no one is around to hear it. Harry’s eyes widen comically as the realization sets in. He hangs his head, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles at himself, clearly embarrassed.

“Me dad would be happy to hear that,” Niall says with an exaggerated Irish accent and winks when Harry looks up at him again. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. Harry is so _endearing_. “And I’m Niall, by the way. I’ll see you around, I hope.”

Harry smiles wider instead of replying, which makes his dimples even more pronounced. Niall finds himself unwilling to go just yet, but there’s not really anything he can do to put it off any longer. There’s no logical reason for him to keep talking to Harry, the guys has a job to do, after all, and it’s not like Niall is on vacation either.  Just as he’s opening his mouth to say something – he’s not even sure what –, the noise of a door falling shut makes him flinch. Harry seems to be reminded that he’s currently on the job, because he sits up straighter and sends the person who just walked in a polite smile, a lot less radiant than before.

“Anyway, nice seeing you,” Niall rushes out, and immediately winces. He’s not usually this bad with words, he’s a _writer_ , for fuck’s sake. “Nice meeting you, I mean.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he sees Harry’s face fall in what looks like disappointment. “Oh, yeah. Nice meeting you, too!”

****

Work doesn’t let up, and Niall feels very tightly wound for the next few days, so it’s harder for him to concentrate than it usually is. He keeps replaying the interview in his head, and all the times he should have dug deeper, been more persistent. His favourite professor at uni told him once, _“a good journalist gets the facts, but a great journalist isn’t satisfied until they get to the truth.”_ It used to make Niall feel like what he did was _important_ , like he was working towards something _bigger_ than writing reports about minor car accidents and school sports events, but how is he supposed to get to ‘The Truth’? Where is The Truth in what he does?

Lately Niall has days where he feels like he isn’t going anywhere. His biggest nightmare is to be stuck doing other people’s paper work forever, when he wants so badly to do something that _matters_ , something that doesn’t just fill space in some random newspaper, next to ads for vacuum cleaners and laundry detergent. All he wants to do is _write_. It’s a physical itch sometimes, and on those days he can’t bear sitting on his arse and look for grammar mistakes all day, but he doesn’t have a choice. If he wants to do something important one day, he has to do this first. It’s what everyone has always told him, ever since he started pursuing a career in journalism. “ _It’s not as great as you make it out in your head,”_ his dad sighed over his coffee mug, the very first time Niall told him about it. As much as Niall hates to admit it, his dad was right.

The doubts never outweigh his passion, otherwise he wouldn’t still be here, but–it’s a thought that’s difficult to shake.

It takes Niall the better part of a week to admit to himself that there’s something else he can’t get out of his head; he really shouldn’t still be thinking about Harry, and he really, _really_ shouldn’t still remember that silly nickname, or the way he smiled at Niall. He doesn’t have time for a stupid school boy crush, he hardly has enough time to get all his work done, so Niall tells himself to put some distance between himself and the cute secretary. It’s not like there’s much of a chance there, anyway. It’s probably just his overworked brain looking for a distraction.

Getting distance from Harry seems to be harder than Niall thought; about a week and a half after the interview, Niall is sitting at his desk, drowning in paper work and bored to death, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s not a number he’s ever seen before, and it takes him a few moments, but when the light bulb flickers on over his head he scrambles to sit up and calm down his breathing before picking up. It turns out he’s right. He recognizes the voice that starts speaking immediately.

“Mr. Horan? This is Mr. Wells’ secretary speaking.”

It’s not a question, but Harry makes it sounds like one, like he’s testing it in his mouth. Niall can’t really help the way that makes him smile. “Harry! Hi!”

Harry clears his throat briefly before barrelling on. “I’m calling about your appointment with our representatives next week.”

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to confirm you’re still on board?”

“On board?”

“With the appointment.”

“Oh!”

Niall has a feeling he’s making it super obvious how new he is to this, so to make up for it he shuffles with his papers to pretend to look it up, even though he doesn’t have to check to know the time of his appointment. He’s been looking forward to it ever since he left that first time.

“Right, right. 9:30 on Tuesday, is it?” he asks, and Harry makes an affirmative noise. “Yes, absolutely! It’s marked in my calendar.”

“Great! I’ll see you then.”

“And I you! Have a nice day!”

“You, too, Mr. Horan.”

Niall hangs up quickly to stop himself from saying any more stupid shit.

There’s a cough, and he’s absolutely mortified to see his co-worker Louis leaning against the doorframe. Niall does his best to keep his face neutral, but he can tell it doesn’t fool Louis; they’ve known each other since their first semester and somehow it’s been impossible shake Louis off ever since. It was a friendship that surprised everyone, including Niall. Louis had always been so self-assured and constantly in the middle of whatever was happening, it just seemed strange that he chose Niall of all people as his best friend. Not that Niall is complaining. It’s nice working with Louis, because he can make even the most mundane tasks fun, but at times like this Niall wishes they hadn’t both applied to the same newspaper.

“So,” says Louis, his smirk sharp and horrible. “Who’s this Harry then?”

“Wells’ secretary. He was calling about the next meeting.”

Louis doesn’t seem convinced. “You call all secretaries by their first names now?”

“It’s polite.”

“Is it?”

Niall doesn’t reply. He has no idea if it’s polite. It probably isn’t.

“Are you going to get some actual work done or are you just going to stick your nose into my business all day?” he bites out, but Louis just laughs.

“Oh, come on! Let me have my fun, it’s not every day you get all blushy over some sexy secretary.”

Before he can stop himself, Niall’s hands are on his cheeks. They don’t feel hot. “I’m not–”

Louis throws his head back in a big, obnoxious laugh. He barely manages to dodge the ruler Niall swats at him with.

“Get out, ya menace!”

“Okiedokie,” Louis sing-songs. “Just remember, the deadline for your notes is tomorrow!”

Niall groans in response and lets his head fall forward onto his arms. He totally forgot. He was supposed to transcribe his notes from the first interview with Well’s representatives. If he starts right now, he can still get it done in time, but that means staying late to finish everything else, and there’s nothing that Gina–their boss–hates more than tardiness. Sometimes Niall wishes he’d studied to become a lawyer instead. At least lawyers get paid better to do this kind of work.

“Mark it in your calendar!” Louis calls over his shoulder just as he’s leaving the room, and Niall has to remind himself of all the reasons why it’s unprofessional to throw something at him.

****

Honestly, it shouldn’t be this hard to talk to the guy. Niall has a master’s degree in journalism and communication, he wrote for the school newspaper for four years and he always got straight A’s in English. Niall _knows_ how to work with words, better than anything else. And now, out of nowhere, all it takes is one dimpled, cheeky smile from the cute secretary and the words disappear into thin air. It’s embarrassing, really.

He needs to step up his game.

For his next appointment at the Wells firm, Niall wears his second best suit–he doesn’t want them to think he only owns the one–, but he buys a brand new tie to make up for it. The sales person smiles approvingly and tells him it brings out the colour of his eyes, and Niall nods and tries very hard to convince himself he’s not buying it because he wants to impress Harry.

Since it’s his second time in the building, Niall isn’t as nervous as he could be when he goes to pick up the documents on Tuesday. He left his office early, terrified he might be late and leave a horrible impression, so he took the time to buy two cups of coffee at a nearby Starbucks. He can’t help it; his cheeks lift in a smile when he spots the curly haired head behind the front desk.

“Hiya,” Niall says and Harry’s head shoots up.

“Hey! You’re early,” Harry replies. He sounds like he’s happy about it. Niall absolutely does not let the fact that he has the time of his appointment memorized go to his head.

“Better early than late. This is for you, by the way,” he says and puts the cups down on the desk. “Well, one of them. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got one of them sugary ones and a plain black one.”

“Oh,” Harry says, his eyes growing wider. “Oh,” he repeats himself, this time with an entirely different inflection. “I don’t really drink coffee.”

Niall feels the smile fall of his face. Harry gasps. “Not because of you! I genuinely don’t like coffee!”

“That’s okay,” Niall says. “No problem! I can just…”

He trails off. He can just _what?_ Drink both? Dunk one of them in the toilet? Jesus Christ.

“Does Annie drink coffee?”

Harry’s frowning slightly, like he can’t quite make sense of why Niall would ask that. “I’m not sure. I think so?”

“I’ll just leave the sugary one for her.”

He goes to grab his briefcase and get away from Harry as fast as possible, but Harry stops him. “Wait! You can’t go into the waiting room until they ask you in.”

“Right.” Niall closes his eyes for a second. He knew that. “Of course. I’ll wait here then.”

Harry does this weird thing where he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth like he’s trying to hide a smile but fails miserably. He points at the seating area across from the desk and Niall sits down, feeling stupid. After a few minutes of sitting in silence and trying not to, Niall lets himself sneak a look at the desk just in time to see Harry slowly take a sip from the cup. He makes a face, clearly not aware he’s being watched, but goes back for another sip before deciding it’s not for him and putting the cup back down.

****

Ever since Niall came to terms with liking both guys and girls, it’s been more or less an easy ride for him. Nobody ever gave him shit about it, at least not to his face, and he likes to think he’s become good at not caring what people think. He doesn’t really date anyway, his job makes it pretty much impossible to do more than go for the occasional drink with friends–which isn’t to say that Niall doesn’t flirt, because he _does_. He likes getting to know people, he likes making them feel special, in the casual, non-committed way that feels natural to him, and he also likes the feeling of walking away from it, knowing there might be potential. But he never pursues anything. It doesn’t have to lead anywhere for him, that’s not why he does it.

It took him a while to accept that while he does find people attractive, and sometimes even has feelings for them, he doesn’t need them to be reciprocated. Talking to people is nice, and flirting is nice, and kissing is nice, because _people_ are nice, but everything beyond that feels like a suit that’s too tight to be comfortable. There’s never been anyone he clicked with in that way, and besides, Niall has never felt like there’s anything missing from his life, so he doesn’t see the point in going out of his way to find someone.

With Harry, it’s different. Niall has no clue what it is about him, but there’s something there that makes him want Harry’s approval. Liking someone isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for him; wanting them to like him back, however, is definitely new.

****

“This is unbelievable”, Louis mutters. He’s sitting at the other side of Niall’s desk, his head in his hands. They’re currently mulling over a twenty pages long financial report–one of four. “Why am I doing this?”

“Because you’re a great friend?” Niall offers, but Louis shoots him a look, so he tries again. “Because they’ll give us writing credit for this?”

“They better, or else I’ll quit. This is it, man. This is the last time I’m doing this kind of shit.”

Niall hums and goes back to work. Louis talks about quitting his job so often it’s lost all its’ weight. They both know he loves writing way too much to give up a chance of getting a regular slot in the paper.

“We have until the end of the week to finish this, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s Tuesday, Niall. The end of the week is in three days.”

Niall sighs. He can’t argue with that. Three days feel like not nearly enough time to get through the stack of paper they gave him, and part of Niall wonders if maybe that’s what the Wells firm is hoping for. He’s about to suggest they take a break when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

**_ From: Unknown number – 9:23 _ **

**_Hi there. Can I come to your office during lunch? Apparently they forgot some documents._ **

Just as he finishes reading the first message, the phone buzzes a second time.

**_ From: Unknown number – 9:23 _ **

**_This is Harry from the Wells office btw!!!_ **

“I hope you’re laughing at some hilarious stats right now,” Louis grumbles without looking up. “Because otherwise I’d have to literally fucking kill you.”

“Relax.”

“I’ll relax when this is done! Stop flirting at the workplace!”

“This is work related!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I bet it is. Put the dick pics away and do your job, you’re not allowed to have fun when I’m in physical pain over here!”

** To: Hazza – 9:24 **

**Yeah no problem! I’m free right now, come by whenever ! Do you still have the address??**

Niall looks up from his phone to see Louis glaring at him. “Seriously, can that not wait?”

“Harry is coming over with some stuff they forgot to send in.”

“Oh, _fantastic!_ ” Louis cries and throws his hands in the air, sending his pen flying in the process. He throws Niall another sour look, as if to say _‘look what you made me do.’_ “Even more shit to work through! This day just keeps getting better!”

Niall is aware that he should be just as annoyed as Louis, maybe throw something, too. Louis isn’t wrong, they’ve been at it for hours, and the mountain of paperwork never seems to get smaller. On any other day, they would be making plans to quit their jobs and move to the Philippines together, but it’s just–it’s hard to be in a bad mood when Harry is coming over.

Apparently Niall has reached a low point.

Harry arrives at 11 on the dot. Niall isn’t proud of it, but the first thing he notices are his legs. He hasn’t really had a chance to look at them before seeing as Harry is always sitting behind a desk; his legs are endless, squeezed into ridiculously tight jeans that would make it hard to look away, if it weren’t for the blinding smile on Harry’s face. A strand of his hair has fallen into his face, and he goes to brush it to the side before realizing he has both of his hands full. Instead, Harry blows it out of the way and then goes back to smiling.

It’s all Niall can do to stop himself from groaning out loud.

“Hey there,” Harry says and waves the hand holding a cup of coffee. “I brought you this to make up for last time.”

“You didn’t have to!” Niall hurries to say, the look Louis sends him practically burning through his skull.

Harry makes a dismissive gesture. “Eh,” he says, and that’s that.

The coffee turns out to be just like Niall likes it, strong with no sugar and no milk. Harry must have remembered what Niall got for himself the last time; the thought alone is enough to make him blush. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says, and Harry smiles like he’s just glad Niall likes it.

Louis clears his throat. “So, this is all of it then?” He points to the folders Harry dropped on the desk. Harry nods.

“I saw them lying around in a drawer. They must have forgotten them last time.”

“I’m sure they did,” Louis replies dryly. Niall wants to glare at him for doing this in front of Harry, but he can’t bring himself to disagree. He finds it very hard to believe they would just ‘forget’ two months’ worth of financial reports. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a well-deserved break now,” Louis declares. “Have fun, you two.”

Harry waves at him when he goes, and he doesn’t seem put off at all when Louis looks at him weird. Niall is suddenly dizzy with how much he likes him, but he feels sick at the same time. He decides that he hates crushes.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, I was just going to drop by and leave these with you–” Harry begins to say, but Niall cuts him off.

“Don’t be silly! You brought me coffee, you can stay.”

“You sure?”

In lieu of an answer, Niall reaches over the desk to pull out Louis’ chair for him.

Harry smiles again. He does that a lot. “Alright.”

They chat for a while; about work, about their bosses, about how tired and ready for a holiday they are, and then they just sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Niall sipping his coffee and Harry looking through the stacks he brought him. Niall can’t imagine it’s very interesting, but Harry seems vaguely entertained. It’s endearing in a way only he could manage. Out of nowhere, Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat and looks up. “Are there entries missing?”

Niall frowns. “Not that I know of, why?”

“I think there’s a missing number. It says here,” Harry holds up the stack for January, “that there was no additional spending, but then in February the amount in the equation is slightly lower. It doesn’t say anything about where that money went.”

He hands Niall the two stacks, and it only takes him a few seconds to see what Harry means. There’s a slight gap in the math, nothing huge, not big enough to be noticed unless you know what you’re looking for, but it’s there. With no explanation.

“Huh.”

“It’s probably nothing, maybe they just forgot a receipt or something.”

“No! No, you’re right, I see what you mean, there’s something missing here. Louis!” Niall calls out and a few moments later, Louis pops his head through the door.

“What’s up?”

“Did anyone send in more of these?” Niall asks, holding up the two stacks of paper. Louis shakes his head. “Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me? When have I _ever_ –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall cuts him off loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Thankfully, Louis doesn’t object any further, just grumbles something under his breath and walks off. Niall needs to remember to apologize to him later, otherwise he’ll never hear the end of it. Right now, he doesn’t have the time; he can smell a story. As he flicks through the other stacks, Niall catches even more gaps. They’re not regular, but every once in a while there’s a mistake, something that doesn’t quite add up, and now that he knows what to look for, they’re incredibly obvious.

“That’s strange, why would they leave something out?” Niall asks, mostly to himself. He looks up to see Harry shrug, looking lost. Niall gets an idea. “I’m not an expert, so I’ll have someone look over this, just to be sure, but…listen, how soon could I get an appointment with your boss?”

Harry looks startled. “With Mister Wells? Uhm–I’m not sure, I guess–he has some meetings next week but I could always squeeze you in.”

“I was thinking something a bit more…immediate. As in, Thursday?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Niall immediately feels bad for asking. It’s not Harry’s job to do him favours, it’s not even his job to be here right now. He’s already being incredibly nice, and Niall just went and asked for more. He’s about to reel back when Harry answers.

“I mean…” he trails off with a sigh. “Don’t get excited yet, I can’t promise you anything. But I’ll try.”

Niall reaches across the desk and grabs Harry’s hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Harry says with a laugh. It should sound annoyed, considering what Niall is asking of him, but instead it sounds incredibly pleased, as if it’s Niall who’s doing Harry a favour and not the other way around.

****

Niall expected Harry to text him the details sometimes the next morning, probably to say no, because let’s be honest–how is he supposed to get Niall an appointment with a big fish like Wells in less than a day–, but it only takes him a few hours to get back to him. Niall’s phone buzzes in his pocket just as he’s leaving the office. His heart skips a beat in excitement when he sees Harry’s name light up on the screen.

**_ From: Hazza – 17:02 _ **

**_Be here at 9 AM on Thursday. x_ **

He gets a weird look from an old lady for the noise he makes, but Niall couldn’t give less of a shit. He’s dialling Harry’s number as soon as he’s done reading. True to his form, Harry picks up on the second ring, but Niall doesn’t even let him get a word in. “Thank you so, so, _so_ much! How can I make this up to you?”

“You don’t–you don’t have to do that. It’s not a big deal and…‘s what you wanted, so…”

For a few moments, all Niall can do is grin so wide his face hurts. His chest feels warm, like someone is turning all the lights on inside of him. It’s ridiculous, Harry isn’t even there with him, and here he is smiling like a complete loon.

“I’ll take you out for dinner,” he blurts out before he really has the time to think about it. “My treat. If you want, I mean.”

It’s quiet for a beat, and then another, just enough for panic to set in. Maybe Niall read the signs all wrong, maybe Harry doesn’t like him like that… _god_ , maybe he isn’t even into guys and now he’s completely grossed out, what was Niall _thinking_ –

“I’d love to,” Harry says finally, very quietly. He sounds uncharacteristically shy. About a hundred thousand pounds of weight lift off of Niall’s chest as once.

“Great! Fantastic!”

Harry laughs out loud this time before suddenly blocking out the sound. There’s some rustling around and distant voices, and then he’s back again. “Listen, I gotta go. I’m still at work.”

“Shit, right! Of course! I’ll call you!”

Harry laughs softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The line goes dead. It takes Niall about three full minutes to realize he’s still grinning.

****

The high doesn’t last long. The moment Niall steps through the door at work the next morning, Louis pulls him aside and reality catches up to him.

“You do realize this guy is risking his job for you, right?”

No hello, no lead-up, no explanation how he even knows about it. Louis isn’t the type to beat around the bush, and usually that’s a characteristic Niall likes about him, but he would prefer not doing this in the hallway. “I’m aware, Louis, thank you.”

“Well, is _he_ aware?”

“ _Louis!_ ”

“I’m just checking!”

Slowly, the stern look on Louis’s face gets replaced by a giddy smile. He takes Niall by the sleeve and pulls him into their office. “You fucking genius! I can’t believe you landed an actual interview with _Mark fucking Wells!_ And it’s _tomorrow!_ Holy shit, man, is this what they call the luck of the Irish?”

Niall makes a noise that’s neither here nor there. He avoids looking at Louis as he walks over to his side of the desk. It’s silent for a beat. Niall can feel Louis’ eyes on him. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes he hates that about his best friend; as loud and boisterous as Louis can be, he knows exactly when something is bothering Niall. It’s disconcerting.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on, Niall.”

The truth is, Niall doesn’t have an answer. From the moment he opened his eyes this morning, his mind has been going back and forth between being overjoyed and absolutely horrified. As of right now, he’s stuck on the latter. His tie feels abnormally tight, but when he pulls at it to loosen it there’s no difference. He realizes with a start that his heart his beating way too fast. Usually his body gives him more of a warning before this happens, but today it seems he skipped the first stages and went straight to panic.

Niall raises a hand to point at the window. His arm is shaking.

“Got it,” Louis says, understanding making his features softer. In the four seconds it takes him to open it, Niall’s breathing picks up alarmingly fast.

It’s like there’s no air in the room all of a sudden. Niall _knows_ that there is, he can see that Louis isn’t struggling, and he can feel the goose bumps on his neck from the gusts of cold air coming from outside, but none of it reaches his lungs. It doesn’t get past his throat.

“You’re okay,” Louis says, “Look at your desk.”

He does.

“Can you count the pens for me? How many pens are there?”

The question doesn’t register immediately, and Niall’s vision is slightly foggy, but once he squints, his eyes stop swimming and Niall manages to focus. There’s nine black pens in the cup on the side, and a few coloured ones next to his laptop. One red one, one green one, one brown one and two blue ones. “Fourteen.”

“Count them out loud for me.”

Niall does, pointing at each of the pens as he says the numbers out loud. By the time he reaches fourteen, his breathing has slowed down enough to actually fill his lungs. He lets his head fall forward into his hands and closes his eyes.

When Louis speaks again, he sounds closer. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

They stay like that until Niall’s head stops spinning and he feels safe enough to lift his head. Louis looks worried, but not terrified like the first time this happened. He’s had time to grow accustomed to Niall’s anxiety attacks in the five years they’ve known each other now. He knows what to say and when to say it, and when Niall needs him to not say anything.

He gives him another five minutes of just breathing together, and then he says, casually as if nothing had happened, “You don’t have to go through with the interview.”

Niall nods. “I know. I want to.”

Louis scans his face for signs that he’s lying, but Niall is sure of this. He _wants_ to do it, no matter what. This is his chance to make an impression with his boss, and more importantly, this is his chance to do something that matters. If his suspicion turns out to be true, Wells’ accountants deliberately left out monthly expenses; he’s not quite sure what that means yet, but he does know it’s not something they wanted him to find out about. So as terrified as he is, he also knows he _has_ to do this. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

“Alright,” Louis says finally. “I’m coming with you, though. This is not up for discussion. I helped you work through those reports, I demand some of the credit.”

Niall snorts out a laugh and is relieved to find that the knot in his chest has loosened. The whole thing doesn’t seem half as scary knowing that Louis will be there with him.

He has a meeting with their boss and the agency’s lawyer scheduled first thing in the morning, and neither have any objections to Louis being there. All Gina does is raise her eyebrows and say: “Just fetch yourself a chair, Tomlinson.”

The lawyer takes them through the general protocol of this kind of thing, and reminds them not to make any accusations right from the start. (Niall wasn’t planning on it, anyway, he’s not exactly eager to get sued.) After that, they make Niall go through his list of possible questions, and apart from a few corrections here and there, they seem to be satisfied. Niall feels like he can finally breathe properly. He’s done his homework right.

“It looks like you’re well prepared,” Gina says. “I’m not going to lie, I was worried about throwing you in at the deep end straight away, but now I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t do it.”

And just like that, Niall and Louis have landed their first real interview.

They go back to their shared office, Louis’ grip on Niall’s shoulder hard and grounding. He looks like their boss just told him he’s getting promoted, and Niall can tell he looks the same. It’s not far off. If they do this right, it’s definitely a possibility. He can’t let himself think about that for too long, though, otherwise he’s going to psych himself out of it, so for now he focuses on preparing for the interview as thoroughly as possible. For once, Louis doesn’t complain about the extra work. He puts most of the stuff on their desks aside to make room and sits down across from Niall. “Let’s do this,” he says.

They have most of the interview outlined already, all they have left to do is put the questions in order and work out a strategy. Louis is better at putting people on the spot, they both know that, so they decide that Niall should concentrate on taking notes while Louis asks the questions.

“You’re just too nice,” Louis argues, but he’s just pretending that Niall needs convincing. Honestly, the idea of having the entire interview rely on him is so daunting it makes Niall’s throat close up again. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to ask.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not, it’s why everyone loves you! But in this business you need to know how to make people nervous, and it just so happens that I’m a pro at that.”

Louis grins, and Niall wonders where he would be if he didn’t know Louis. Probably not in an office at a news agency, preparing to interview one of the biggest property sharks of the country. Louis is right, he’s good at making people feel nervous. He certainly made Niall nervous for the first few months of their friendship, until he realized that Louis had already decided he wanted to be a constant in his life and gentle teasing was his way to show that.

“You’re unnerving in the best way,” Niall agrees.

“Thanks, Neil. I take pride in that.”

****

On Thursday morning, Niall lies in bed for twenty-three minutes, eyes wide open and staring blindly at the ceiling. It’s not that he doesn’t want to get out of bed; he knows very well that he’s pushing his luck right now. He can’t afford to stall. It’s just that he’s scared he won’t be able to if he tries.

When he finally manages to push himself into a vertical position, there’s no time left for a shower, let alone for anxiety to fully set in. Thankfully he knew this was going to happen, which is why he washed his hair last night after work. He gets dressed and gulps down a scalding hot coffee before rushing out of the door in the direction of the subway. He doesn’t check his phone until he’s at the Wells office, about thirty minutes before the appointment.

**_ From: Hazza – 07:29 _ **

**_Morning! I’m sick and can’t make it to work, but I wanted to wish you good luck for today. I’m sure you’re gonna smash it! xxx_ **

He can’t explain why, but when he’s finished reading the text and looks up to see someone else behind the front desk, his knee-jerk reaction is to turn on his heels. Niall is out of the office before the door even closes behind him.

Niall should probably have known it’d end up like this. It was laughable to think the high from Tuesday would last long enough to carry him through this; it’s a miracle he turned up in the first place. During his first year at university, he had days where he wouldn’t even leave his bed and instead just stayed wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and sheer panic. It got so bad that he had to drop a few courses because he hardly ever attended class. It took him a while to acclimate to the new environment, and then he met Louis, and Louis introduced him to his friends, and somehow everything got better. No, better isn’t the right word. It got _easier._ He managed. Once he got used to it, it wasn’t as scary anymore.

Niall should have learned from that, he should have given himself more time to get used to this. Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting in a stall in an empty restroom three stories down, as far away from the Wells office as he could get.

He has no way of knowing how much time has passed when suddenly, the bathroom door opens, and hesitant footsteps fill the room. Somehow, Niall immediately knows it’s Louis.

“Nialler? You in here?”

He stays silent, but the footsteps move closer anyway, into the adjoining room with the stalls. Niall feels lightheaded with the breath he’s holding in.

“I can see your shoes, man.” He can tell Louis is trying to go for humour, but when he doesn’t receive an answer, he seamlessly switches to back to sounding concerned. “Hey. Don’t hide from me.”

It’s no use. Niall reaches over his bag to unlock the door and buries his face in his hands. He can’t look at Louis right now. He wishes desperately to go back in time and stop himself from ever agreeing to any of this, the solo interview, the first meeting. Possibly even the job offer. His entire body feels red hot with shame. He can’t believe he’s putting Louis in this situation _again_.

“Is it bad?” Louis whispers.

Niall doesn’t reply; he can’t think of anything to communicate how ludicrous the question is.

There’s a soft touch at the base of his neck, and he can feel his body go rigid, out of his control.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Louis says, a tad louder but still quietly enough so there’s no way of anyone eavesdropping. “I don’t care what farts your brain is trying to sell to you right now. You deserve to be here. You got this interview because you’re _good_ at what you do. This wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a mistake.”

Niall has to press a hand over his mouth to keep a sob in. His shoulders are trembling with the effort, but if Louis notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“It’s okay to be scared. I am, too. But just because you feel like you can’t do it doesn’t make it true. You’ve done this before, remember, and you survived. This time won’t be any different. Actually, this time will be better, because I’ll be with you, and I won’t leave you on your own in there.”

There’s some rustling of fabric as Louis crouches down in front of Niall to put both of his hands on the other’s shoulders. He’s trying to provide an anchor, something for Niall to focus on. Despite the fact that Niall knows this–he’s been in therapy long enough to recognize every single of Louis’ tactics–, it has an immediate calming effect. The drum of his heartbeat isn’t painful anymore.

“If you feel like you really can’t, that’s fine, too. You don’t have to do anything, you just sit there and take notes while I do the rest, okay? I got you.”

Louis seems to be done talking, but his hands remain a warm and steady weight. Slowly but surely, Niall’s hands unclench.

It’s five minutes to nine when they get back to the Wells office. Louis sends him worried looks every once in a while, and when the new secretary asks for their ID’s, he takes it from Niall so they don’t notice that Niall’s hand is shaking. They’re told to sit in the secluded waiting area again, and Louis shoots him a reassuring smile.

“See? Not so bad.”

“We haven’t done the interview yet,” Niall reminds him.

“The hardest part is turning up. The rest will be over before you know it.”

Louis says it with such conviction that it makes Niall forget about his nausea. He knows Louis isn’t underestimating the gravity of the situation; he genuinely thinks Niall is brave for even getting this far. Niall feels like laughing all of a sudden, his nerves turning his emotions upside down, but instead he weakly pats Louis’ shoulder, hoping it gets the point across.

They get called in a few moments later, and Niall is surprised to find that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to faint any longer. Annie is there, and she gives Niall a broad smile and a thumbs up before leading them into the conference room, and then he’s looking at Mark Wells himself.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Wells says. “Have a seat.”

“Good morning,” Louis replies and takes the hand that’s being offered to him.

“Thank you for agreeing to this interview,” says Niall, doing the same. Distantly, he can tell that his voice sounds firm and unwavering. Louis exhales beside him.


	2. they're gonna eat me alive

Niall takes Harry out for dinner the Saturday following the interview. When he walked out of the Wells office, his back drenched in sweat and a distant ringing of exhaustion in his ears, he decided it was best to ride the high of confidence. He called Harry as soon as they were out of earshot. Harry agreed easily and told Niall to pick a restaurant, even though Niall asked multiple times if he wanted to go anywhere in particular. He likes surprises, Harry said.

 

(“Yup. That’s a date,” Louis said when Niall read out Harry’s text on the tube back to work.

“Maybe it’s not, though.”

“Niall.”

“I didn’t explicitly ask him to go on a date with me. I said I was going to take him out to make up for him getting us the interview. That could be interpreted as friendly.”

“ _Niall._ ”

“Do you think maybe he thinks this is weird?”

“Niall, I swear to God.”

“I should just see how it goes on Saturday, shouldn’t I?”

“We _just_ finished an important interview. We might get _promoted_. We’re not even at the office yet. Give me a few minutes of boasting in silence, alright?”

“Are you sure this means it’s a date?”

“Niall, I will strangle you.”)

 

He spots Harry as soon as he turns the corner. It’s kind of hard not to, considering he’s wearing a long, floral coat matched with glittery boots than could probably be seen from miles away. Niall imagines the face Louis would make if he could see his outfit, and for some reason that makes him like Harry even more. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

Harry is standing right at the edge of the road, frowning down at his phone and his other hand raised to his mouth where he’s biting at his knuckles.

Niall hopes his face is somewhat collected when he gets out of the car. “Hey.”

“Hey,” says Harry and hurries to put his phone away.

“Am I late?”

“No, not at all! I just wanted to be ready early so you wouldn’t have to wait.”

The thought makes Niall smile. He walks around the car to open the door for Harry and sees him visibly blush. “Didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Go hard or go home,” Niall replies simply and it makes Harry laugh.

They’re quiet for most of the ride, but Niall catches Harry stealing glances at him sometimes. Since Niall has to focus on driving and can’t look back to decipher what those looks mean, he tries his best not to think about it too much. The silence doesn’t feel heavy or uncomfortable, just noticeable. The dress shirt he’s wearing feels bland and too heavy now; Niall is glad he at least left the suit jacket at home. He isn’t sure if this is Harry dressed up or casual, and it’s not like he can just ask. Somehow both seems equally possible.

“This is it,” Niall says unnecessarily when he parks next to the restaurant. He chose one of his favourites; it’s more on the high end side, and just slightly above his pay range, but he can make it work. He steals a glance at Harry’s face and lets out a breath when Harry seems delighted.

“Ooh, fancy!”

Niall laughs a bit for lack of a better response.

They only have to wait a minute or two before the waiter leads them to their table, and Niall is glad that Harry fills the silence without a second thought. He was scared it might be harder to talk to him once they’re here, but the atmosphere seems to excite Harry more than make him clamp up. Niall tries to follow his example. When they get to their table–one of the smaller ones further in the back, just like Niall requested–, Harry cuts him to it and pulls one of the chair out for him. He turns his smile at Niall, his dimples full on. “I want to be a gentleman, too.”

Niall is pretty sure his face is on fire. He lets Harry push up his chair again and watches him sit down on the other side of the table. Harry inspects the expensive table decoration, his smile unchanging. Maybe this really is a date, after all.

They fall back into an easy conversation for a while, until their waiter returns with the menus and they focus on those, but they pick up right where they left once they’ve ordered.

“Your accent is stronger today,” Harry remarks at one point, taking a small sip from the red wine he ordered.

“Is it?”

“Bit more Irish than usual.”

“Didn’t even notice.”

He totally did notice, he was just hoping Harry wouldn’t think anything of it. His accent always gets thicker when he’s nervous and doesn’t concentrate on suppressing it, makes him sound like the spitting image of his dad–not that that’s a bad thing, but. He’d prefer not being so obvious about his nerves.

Niall takes a swig of his beer purely to have something to do with his hands. He feels a lot less sophisticated, but red wine tends to make him tired and sloppy, and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

“So how did the interview go, then? You didn’t say,” Harry asks, and Niall is glad for the change of subject.

He hasn’t told Harry about the interview yet. Gina wanted the notes to be transcribed immediately, and then after that Niall was so spent he hardly made it home. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to tell him; it was just that he didn’t really know what to say. Niall hasn’t really been letting it on at work, but he’s disappointed in himself. He was so excited about this opportunity, about actually having a proper interview with a major business man, and now he feels kind of…empty. Deflated.

“Pretty well, I think. It was–it was interesting, he’s quite the personality, isn’t he?”

“That’s one way to put it. I’d say he’s a complete arse.”

Niall barks out an embarrassingly loud laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, always makes people work over time and stuff. There was this one time around Christmas where he made everyone stay longer while he was already on a plane to Venice. I had to book that flight because apparently even that was too much stress for him.” Harry rolls his eyes at the memory, and then adds: “And he never says please and thank you.”

Honestly, that has to be the most adorable thing Niall has ever heard. He hides his endeared smile behind his drink. “Huh.”

“Please tell me you grilled him!”

“I mean, I tried my best.” Niall shrugs. “Eh. Louis did most of the work. He’s good at that, making people tell him things.”

“I’m sure you were better than you give yourself credit for,” Harry says, frowning slightly, as if he’s genuinely upset Niall might think otherwise. It takes Niall a few moments to think of something to reply.

“I dunno,” Niall says at last, shrugging to show it doesn’t really matter. “Thank you, though.”

“I remember thinking you looked like a professional when you first came into the office.”

“Yeah?”

“With your suit and everything. Proper dashing.” Harry pauses. “ _Super_ hot.”

This time, his laugh sounds more like choking. Harry’s eyes are twinkling.

“Hey, uh, listen,” Niall rushes to say. “I wanted to thank you again.”

There is no way Harry doesn’t notice that he’s trying to deflect, but he plays along anyway. “Absolutely no problem.” When Niall goes to protest, he holds up his hand to stop him. “Honestly, Niall, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I just rearranged some appointments, all it took was a couple of phone calls.”

“Still, you took a big risk for me. I really appreciate it.”

Harry shrugs and grins his signature grin, all lopsided and dimpled. “I’m always glad to help.”

“Maybe I’ll ask you for help more often, then.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind that,” Harry says, his voice low and smooth like honey. Niall feels like he’s melting.

He’s never had problems with dates. He knows how to do small talk, how to keep the conversation going, and he’s been told he’s good at making people feel at ease. Niall is a people person, always has been. Right now, though, he feels completely out of his element. Harry doesn’t seem to mind that he isn’t talking, he’s completely content just looking at Niall with his big green eyes. Niall regrets having that last beer.

“Is that why you wanted to take me out for dinner?” Harry asks suddenly.

Niall takes another sip to stall. His face feels very hot. “Partly, yeah. Have to make it up to you somehow, don’t I?”

Harry merely hums, and even that tiny sound makes a shiver run down Niall’s spine. It also does something else, something strange; it makes Niall feel bold.

“And maybe I just wanted to take you out. Wine and dine you.”

“Wine and dine me.”                                                                       

“Maybe,” Niall says. “Yeah.”

Sometimes Harry does this thing where his smile takes over his entire face until it becomes blinding to look at him. It feels like being bathed in sunlight. He’s _insanely_ pretty, in a way that makes Niall feel like his heart is going to fall out of his arse any second.

By the time they finish dinner, Niall’s face is flushed–he knows this because he checked in the reflection of his knife whenever Harry wasn’t looking–, but he feels better than he has in weeks. Talking to Harry is easy, now that Niall has loosened up a bit. Even when the conversation comes to a halt, it’s never awkward.

After Niall pays for their dinner, he catches something on Harry’s face, but it’s gone before he can decipher what it means. He feels nervous again, somehow. There’s no rational reason for them to still be sitting here, but neither of them make a move to stand up and leave.

“Do you like tiramisu?” Harry asks suddenly.

“Uh…sure!”

“Cool, ‘cause there’s this Italian place around the corner where I live, I’ve been a few times and their tiramisu is pretty great. Maybe we could…uhm,” Harry pauses to scratch at a spot above his upper lip. “Maybe I could take you out next time.”

Niall blinks. “You really want to?”

For a moment, all Harry does is stare. “I can’t believe I still have to say this,” he breathes out. “I really, really like you, Niall.”

Niall’s heart skips a beat. It’s almost painful. “You do?”

“I don’t risk my job for just anyone.”

Harry’s eyes are wide and incredibly green, and there’s a slight flush to his cheekbones, like he’s embarrassed but refuses to let that stop him. Niall can’t look away.

Harry reaches over the table to poke at Niall’s cheek. “Stop staring at me.”

After Niall drives him back home, there’s a moment when their hands almost touch and Niall’s heartrate picks up. He wants to reach out, but at the same time he’s terrified of what that would mean. Now that it’s about to end, the entire evening feels like foreplay, and Niall doesn’t think he’s ready to take another step in whatever direction they’re going right now.

“Thank you for dinner,” Harry says quietly, then smiles to himself, like he realizes this has to be the hundredth time he’s thanked him so far.

“No worries,” Niall replies, and–he wants to ask what it means, all of it, he wants to reassure Harry that not saying yes doesn’t mean no, not entirely, at least he doesn’t think it does–but all he ends up saying is: “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Harry nods. He’s still smiling, in that strange, unassuming way, like he’s disappointed but wants to make sure Niall knows there’s no hard feelings, and Niall is pretty sure he’s never felt so awful about himself.

****

**_ From: Hazza – 22:02 _ **

**_I’m home x_ **

Niall’s stomach does a weird thing.

He types out a simple **_‘Good! :)’_** –which is a reasonable response, he thinks, not too forward and not too reserved–but then his thumb hovers over the little **‘x’** button. It shouldn’t feel like that big of a deal, Harry literally puts them in every other text, so it’s not like it would come completely out of the blue, but…

He still thinks about the pause after Harry asked him out, and the look in Harry’s eyes when they said goodbye. Maybe if Niall had sat down and actually thought of the possible outcomes of this dinner, he would have managed something better than a pathetic wave. It’s just–hugging Harry didn’t seem like something that was still on the table, not after Niall didn’t even give him an answer. His gut twist uncomfortably and he flops onto his side, phone clutched to his chest. He’s such an _idiot._ The worst part is: Niall _wants_ to say yes to a second date, but it doesn’t feel right when he still isn’t sure if he actually wants to go through with this. There’s always a point in every single relationship where it becomes clear that he doesn’t. Sometimes it’s a gradual thing, and sometimes it’s very sudden, maybe a touch that sends his mind reeling in the worst way, or a set of lips to his neck, or fingers pushing his shirt up–that particular moment comes in various forms, but it always feels the same. And it always leaves both of them confused and upset.

It doesn’t seem fair to string Harry along when Niall knows there’s a good chance he’ll have to call the whole thing off in a few weeks anyway.

But then again, none of his past relationships have ever left Niall this shaken. They’ve known each other for just over three weeks now, and already there’s butterflies every time Harry smiles at him. They’ve never even shaken hands, and Niall often catches himself thinking about touching Harry. It’s all completely innocent–just brushing arms with him while they’re walking next to each other, holding hands, having Harry’s arm around him. The mere thought of it makes him giddy, and like…isn’t that what crushes are like for other people? Niall has never spent much time contemplating whether or not his feelings for people were “normal”, not that there is such a thing, so now he isn’t sure. All he knows is that this thing that’s been going on between Harry and him is new, and exciting, and absolutely _terrifying._

How is he supposed to tell Harry that? How is he supposed to set boundaries when he isn’t sure where he wants them to be yet?

****

** To: Hazza – 23:34 **

**I really really like you too. Sorry I’m so bad at words sometimes**

** To: Hazza – 23:35 **

**And I’d love to try that tiramisu some time !**

**_ From: Hazza – 23:47 _ **

**_I’m glad!! :) no worries, just let me know when you’re free and I’ll pick you up. xxx_ **

It’s significantly harder to hold onto his doubts when Niall’s heart is beating like a drum against his ribs.

****

“I think I have to come out to him?”

It takes Louis a few moments to compute what Niall just said, and Niall can’t blame him. They’ve been sitting in silence and eating their lunch for the past ten minutes, and neither of them have brought up Harry so far today. There hasn’t been any time to, not after Gina told them to catch up on their other work for the time it takes to go over the transcription of their interview. It was said with a raised eyebrow and one of her rare smiles, and Louis has been skittish ever since.

The end result of their interview with Wells wasn’t really all that clear; of course, Wells wasn’t exactly overjoyed to talk about the possibility of tax evasion, no matter how careful they worded their questions. At the end of the day, there was nothing he could do to evade it, though. He had agreed to being questioned, most probably to avoid further suspicions, and he could hardly refuse to acknowledge it during the interview. After twenty minutes of polite but tense build-up, what Wells settled on was this: He wasn’t aware of any illegal actions, but he would look into it. Not that he had much of a choice.

It wasn’t as exciting as one would think, but Niall and Louis know what it means: they forced Mark Wells, one of the biggest and most influential business men in the country, into a corner. For two absolute beginners, that’s quite the accomplishment. So it doesn’t surprise Niall that Louis temporarily forgot to tease him about Harry.

When Louis does catch up, he puts down his plastic fork and wipes at his mouth, a contemplative look on his face. “Is that a question?”

“No. I’m going to come out to him.”

Louis lifts his arms over his head and gazes at a point somewhere above Niall’s head while he stretches. When he’s done, he regards the box on his lap like he’s looking for some kind of answer in the left over ramen. “Well, shit. You really like him, huh?”

Niall feels his face burn. He nods.

Louis hums before saying, “I mean, he’s a bit odd, I’m not gonna lie, but he really seems to like you, too.”

“You think?”

Louis snorts. “You should see your face right now, it’s like I told you Obama is running for president a third time. If this guy doesn’t want to date you, I’m going to have to punch some sense into him.”

Niall laughs weakly, trying to glaze over the fact that he’s starting to feel sick. Louis notices, of course he does, and turns serious instantly. “What are you going to do if he doesn’t?”

Niall takes a deep breath. “Deal with it, I guess. Can’t do anything about it, can I? But I can’t not tell him, I need to know where this is going for sure. If it goes wrong, I’d rather deal with it now than later.”

When Louis doesn’t say anything, Niall looks up again to see him smile softly. Louis reaches over the table and squeezes Niall’s forearm. “Good on you, bro.”

****

** To: Hazza – 11:01 **

**I was thinking we could go have that tiramisu we talked about. Are you free any time this week?**

**_ From: Hazza – 11:03 _ **

**_I’d love to! I’m free tonight, does that work for you? xxx_ **

****

Niall doesn’t give himself time to change his mind. Harry picks him up from the office just after five, slightly ruffled from work but otherwise lovely, and he chats all the way to the little Italian place. It’s less of a restaurant and more of a café with an elegant twist, and Niall is glad for it. It’s a nice change, and it allows him to get rid of the tie and jacket that have been suffocating him for the past nine hours.

Harry picks up the closest menu and points to the page with the desserts, like it doesn’t even occur to him to hide how excited he is about all of this. Louis is right, Niall realises with a start. Harry has told him this, of course, but it didn’t really seem plausible until now: Harry really, really likes him. Niall needs this to work out, badly.

For a few minutes, he lets Harry carry the conversation and just enjoys listening, knowing fully well that this might be their last date. It shows, though, Niall has never had a good poker face, and eventually Harry brings it up.

“Are you okay? You seem nervous.”

Niall hesitates a moment too long.

“I need to talk to you about something.” It sounds way too sinister, Niall can hear it as soon as the words leave his mouth, so he reels back. “Don’t worry, it’s not– _Jesus_ , I’m bad at this.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He’s giving Niall time to come up with the right words, but Niall can tell he’s worried. There’s a prominent line between his brows.

“I feel like, ever since I met you my life has been ten times scarier than it was before.”

“In a bad way?”

“Not necessarily, just–” Niall cuts himself off. “No, not in a bad way. I should have opened with something else, sorry. You make me nervous.”

Harry cracks a smile, despite the lingering tension in his expression. “I do?”

“You know you do,” Niall replies with an eye-roll. “You have that air of righteous confidence, you make people nervous wherever you go.”

Harry’s laugh is so loud the people at neighbouring tables crane their heads to look at them, and Niall feels a blush creep up his throat. He doesn’t say anything, though. He likes making Harry laugh.

“ _’That air of righteous confidence’_ , oh my god,” Harry says once he’s calmed down a little, wiping at his eyes. “You’re something else.”

“You can’t tell me I’m the first person to tell you that.”

“In those exact words?”

Harry is still shaking his head when the waiter returns to their table with two steaming plates of food, but Niall can tell he isn’t making fun of him, not really. That’s another thing about Harry: He never makes jokes at the expense of other people. Niall can’t imagine him ever being purposefully mean. The thought makes him smile a little, like maybe he can actually do this. If he had any doubts that Harry wouldn’t take him seriously, they’re gone now.

“So,” Niall says once the waiter has left again. “What I was going to say–How…how is this going to go?”

Harry frowns slightly, the smile not quite gone yet. It makes for an odd mixture. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how far is this going to go?”

It takes Harry a second to catch up to the fact that Niall means their date. He seems taken aback, but not like he thinks it’s a rude question to ask. “I guess that depends. How far do you want this to go?”

“I was actually–I was wondering if we could talk about that. I mean, the whole, like…”

When he groans in frustration, Harry steps in. “You want to set boundaries. Totally understandable.”

“In a way, yeah. As of right now, I want to make sure that you know that I…I want to…”

“Take it slow?”

“I…” Niall takes a deep breath, and then another one. His heart is beating out of his chest. “I’m not good at communicating these kinda things,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

“Sexuality things?” Harry offers, and Niall nods. “Would it help you if you wrote it down instead?”

Niall breathes out a nervous laugh. “What, like a letter?”

“I was thinking maybe through texts.”

The longer Niall thinks about it, the more he starts to realize that might actually be a good idea. This conversation would definitely be easier if he didn’t have to look at Harry while they talk. “How should we do this?”

“How about for now, we just have dinner. We already paid for it, might aswell. And then we continue this conversation when we’re both home.”

Niall nods. He’s glad Harry is taking the initiative on this. “Sounds good.”

Harry smiles, easy as ever, and picks up his knife and fork again. “So anyway, how was work today?”

****

When Niall drops Harry off again, it takes a moment for him to notice that Harry isn’t getting out immediately. Instead, he’s staring intently at something through the windshield, his hands clasped in his lap, like he’s thinking very hard about something. Niall is about to ask what’s wrong when Harry looks at him, a strange determination in the set of his jaw.

“Get home safe,” Harry says softly before leaning over. Niall half expects a kiss, and he finds his eyes closed when Harry tugs him over the console. He realizes too late that it’s a hug, and is left with a confusing mixture of disappointment and fondness. His hands find Harry’s shoulder blades through his shirt, and he slides them up to his shoulders, feeling the tension bleed out of them slowly. The alcohol in his blood makes him bolder, so he holds on for longer than Harry was probably intending to, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He hums lowly, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Niall swallows and lets go at last.

“Yeah, will do,” he murmurs belatedly. He watches Harry stretch out his long limbs as he gets out of the car, a slight pink to his ears.

****

**N: I’m home. Are you?**

It only takes Harry a few seconds to reply.

**_H: Yup. Wanna continue our talk? :)_ **

**N: Yes.**

**_H: Do you want me to start?_ **

Niall frowns. He isn’t sure what Harry would say, considering that Niall was the one who wanted to have this conversation, but he sends ‘ **yes** ’ anyway.

**_H: I hope this doesn’t come across wrong, but you were tense tonight so I just wanted to ask.  Is this your first time going out with a guy?_ **

**N: Nah, that’s not it**

**_H: Oh, okay :)_ **

**N: Wait, is this YOUR first time going out with a guy?**

**_H: No haha!!! :D_ **

**N: didn’t wanna assume anything**

**_H: That’s sweet, but don’t worry :)_ **

**N: When I said I need to specify some sexuality stuff, I didn’t mean that. I know I like men. This isn’t me having a sexuality crisis or something.**

**_H: So you just need to set rules?_ **

**N: Yes, something like that**

**_H: I’m all ears!_ **

**N: It’s not really a rule, it’s just something I need you to know. I know we’re not anywhere near anything like that yet, but I want to make this clear from the get go: I’m asexual.**

Niall gives it a few seconds, takes a deep breath, and then another, and when Harry still hasn’t answered yet, he puts his phone down and leaves the room. A shiver goes up his spine, all the way to his neck. For a moment he’s worried it’s the beginning of an anxiety attack, but once the initial shock wears off, a strange sense of calm washes over him.

He did it. He sent the text. There’s no going back now. Whatever happens is out of his control. Part of Niall is disappointed, because this might be the end of things with Harry, but a bigger part of him is relieved. Niall makes himself walk back into the room and pick up his phone before that feeling has the chance to disappear.

**_H: Thank you for telling me! :)  But just so I get this right: Does that mean you don’t like people romantically either?_ **

Okay, so Harry isn’t mad. That’s a start. Niall relaxes back into the couch, his fingers twitching.

**N: I do like people. It’s just everything else. I don’t think I’m ever going to want that.**

**_H: Sex, you mean?_ **

**N: Yes.**

**_H: Okay, that’s totally fine! :)_ **

**N: No, Harry, you don’t understand. I mean NEVER. As in, I’m not interested in it, and I probably never will be.**

**_H: Yeah, I get that. And I’m saying it’s okay with me._ **

**N: don’t say that if you don’t mean it**

**_H: I do mean it! Sex is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not all that important. I told you, I really like you, and I meant that. I don’t say stuff I don’t mean. Thank you for telling me, but if you were hoping that would scare me away, I have to disappoint you._ **

**N: You have to be completely sure about this, because this isn’t something I’m going to change my mind about. It’s not going to change over time.**

**_H: I know what asexuality is, Niall. :D_ **

**N: okay, just checking**

**N: so what you’re saying is you don’t care if we never have sex?**

**N: assuming you even wanted to in the first place**

**_H: haha :D yep, that’s what I meant. I think you’re really attractive, but I don’t mind not having sex. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy x_ **

**N: that’s sweet, but are you sure you know what that means? Maybe you don’t care right now, but what if you realize it’s not working for you in a few months, or even weeks? That wouldn’t be fair.**

**_H: No, it wouldn’t be fair. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen, I can’t predict the future. We might break up at some point because you think my feet smell, or because you’re horribly messy. Anything is possible. All I can tell you is right now, I don’t care about sex with you. Obviously we’ll have to talk about boundaries and all that fun stuff, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t give this a try :)_ **

**N: for the record, I’m very tidy.**

**_H: And my feet don’t smell. Obviously we’re meant to be._ **

Niall huffs out a disbelieving laugh and drags his free hand down his face.

**_H: That was a joke btw!_ **

**_H: I like you a lot but that was a joke! I hope that didn’t scare you away._ **

**N: I know, don’t worry haha**

**N: It’s just hard for me to believe. You’re taking this suspiciously well.**

**_H: Honestly, I’m just relieved you’re not telling me to fuck off. I thought maybe you decided you don’t like me after all. Like, if you don’t wanna be with me bc of this I understand, but I’m gonna be honest, that would suck._ **

This is the part that makes Niall’s chest feel tight, even more so than the actual coming out. This is where he’s supposed to say ‘thank you, but no thank you’ and let Harry move on with his life, because as sweet as what Harry is saying is, Niall can’t bring himself to fully believe it. Maybe he means it right now, maybe this won’t be a problem for the next few months, but like Harry said, he can’t predict the future. He can’t promise anything. In a year or two, he might not feel the same way, he might feel caged in a relationship that never leaves him fully satisfied, and he’s inevitably going to blame Niall for it.

Niall knows what he _should_ do–but the thought of telling Harry no makes his chest clench up.

In the end, Niall decides to go with the one thing he knows for sure, which is that right now, he wants this. He knows it’s probably going to hurt, one way or another, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting it.

**N: I definitely like you.**

**_H: I definitely like you too :) This doesn’t change that._ **

It’s all he can do not to start laughing. There’s so much going on inside of him, it feels like his chest is bursting at the seams. Niall puts his phone down a second time, gets up from the couch and walks aimlessly through his apartment. He does three full rounds through every room before coming to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his burning cheeks and a smile nearly splitting his face in half. He isn’t exactly happy–he isn’t exactly anything, except slightly hysterical–, but for some reason he can’t stop smiling.

Eventually, Niall manages to calm down enough to sit down and type out a reply.

**N: Thank fuck.**

**_H: :D_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, obviously this isn't the end of the story, and don't worry, the epilogue will follow soon <3


End file.
